


An Evening with the Vampire

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Eye Contact, Frottage, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 10:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16617686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Will Graham knows after his official introduction to Hannibal Lecter that they've met before. They slept together, once, in 1995.





	An Evening with the Vampire

Will had left Jack’s office under the pretense of getting to class, but his students wouldn’t arrive for another half an hour. Good scheduling on Jack’s part left Graham with not enough time to get very far, and too much time to barrel into the safety of his classroom. Another class was still in session. He stood in the hallway, fingertips wearing into his palms as he brimmed with energy for a confrontation. He’d wait until that man left Jack’s office, and then he’d accost him.

Hannibal Lecter had strolled into their conference and Will had known. Meeting his glinting eyes, Will knew that _he knew_ he knew. He’d gone out of his way to be unfriendly, bristling at Lecter’s attempts to banter with him, only giving him more material for his public dissection. For whose benefit had he performed the analysis? Jack had brought him into the room because he was an intellectual of some small renown, he didn’t need to show off for Jack. If he was doing it for Will, he’d done a great job of alienating his audience.

Last time he’d met Lecter, he’d introduced himself as a recent graduate and new surgeon. Unless Johns Hopkins had some elaborate reputation conspiracy, obviously Will could take that to mean that the man was knowledgeable. He didn’t need to show off his new professional trick now. Psychoanalysis. Last time he’d met Lecter he hadn’t demonstrated his superior surgical ability during introductions, he couldn’t see how this should be any different.

There was a gleam of recognition in Hannibal’s eyes, a terrible moment of it. Will felt some gratitude for his discretion, for not announcing their long-lost companionship in the company of a man they both respected.

Will briefly considered hiding in the bathroom until it was time for his lecture, but he knew this particular demon couldn’t be exorcised with sink water to the face. He had to face Lecter directly; get this over with.

Hannibal emerged eventually, looking curious and open-faced in his tan blazer as he approached Will in the hallway. “Are you waiting for an apology?”

“No.” Will shook his head at that, almost laughing. He glanced in the direction he needed to be going, motioning down the hall with his chin. “I’m on my way to class, if you’ll… Join me, for the trek.”

Lecter accepted the invitation to walk with him. He carried a messenger bag by its leather handles in one hand, the other tucked away in his pants pocket. They moved through the interiors of Quantico, pausing as they came to an auxiliary entrance. A few students were coming and going, but the relative quiet and the light coming in from the glass doors made it feel like the right place to stop. The sunlight illuminated Lecter’s face, rendered his lashes almost translucent as Will turned to face him. “Did we… Sleep together? In the nineties.” Will asked outright, sounding vaguely incredulous even as he knew the answer.

“Yes. Ninety-five, I believe. New Orleans.”

“New Orleans.” Will agreed, gaze shifting away again.

“You were about to get your police badge.”

“Yes, I remember.” He could feel Lecter mistaking his acknowledgement as an invitation to go down memory lane with him, and he was not in the mood. Time had blown out this old flame, and he didn’t intend to rekindle it this afternoon. “I’ll see you again soon, courtesy of Jack Crawford.” It was meant to be a curt goodbye, but Will made the mistake of not immediately leaving. He gave him room to keep talking to him.

“Your hair’s grown out.” Hannibal sounded so friendly with this observation. Maybe Will preferred this stupidity to the cruel posturing he’d done only minutes ago, but he wouldn’t go so far as entertain it.

“And you’re… Eighteen years older.” Will gave Hannibal a last look, doing a twitch with his mouth which approximated a smile. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anything extra, then turned on his heel and strode away. He was brisk, but hoped he didn’t look like he was making an escape.

Graham had to check, once he reached his classroom door, if Lecter had followed him. He hadn’t, but his immense presence left the impression of trailing. Stuck, like a shadow. Growing like the sun was moving far too fast overhead.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

They were calling it a vampire. Six bodies, three together and then three more, drained of blood and arranged with morbid theatricality that could only be attributed to something from another world. Graham was a week away from New Orleans police graduation, and he already had a vampire to look forward to. Flood destruction and subsequent relief efforts in the spring had stalled his class’s commencement into late summer, and as the waters receded, extra carnage was supplemented in its wake. Forces of annihilation from all directions; nature herself, poverty, understaffing, mismanagement, the physical obstructions of home wreckage, the structural biases which allowed human lives to fall through the cracks when disaster hit, and now a goddamn vampire. Will had carried a shivering dog in his arms to a crying woman, having used a tree branch to guide it out of the water. He passed the soaking thing to her and she’d wept, thanked him, thanked the police for their bravery. Will was feeling good about the whole thing, acting bashful as he reminded her that he was just a trainee, when a fellow just-trainee had pulled him aside.

“They found bodies, Graham. Three of ‘em, all stacked up like acrobats. Not a drop of blood in any of ‘em. Can you believe it? You think floodwater did that? You wanna go all the way up to homicide detective, right? God, Graham, you gotta see this.”

By the time they got to the crime scene, it was properly surrounded by actual policemen who wouldn’t let them inside. Will had been relieved at their inability to cross the threshold, but the places his imagination were terrible. He didn’t have the real deal in front of him to curb his fantasies. Just Will Graham, trapped in private visions of butchery.

He learned about the second discovery as he was on his way out of the education division. Two of his colleagues were talking to each other about it. He heard the ’vampire’ moniker, now inseparable from the crimes, and ‘struck again’. Eavesdropping further wouldn’t help him learn anything helpful, so his pace didn’t slow as he left the classroom.

Will managed to get all the way to the French Quarter before thoughts of the vampire crept in again, invading his carefully maintained peace. He parked on a side street. The long summer day wouldn’t go dark for another hour, but restaurants already had string lights up, neon signs advertising live music and grandma’s home cooking. The street lamps weren’t lit yet, but their sturdy black poles lined the sidewalks in perfect order, and gave Graham some small comfort. Plants poured over balconies, lush green spilling into the street, nearly brushing the heads of passersby in sun hats. A skateboarder, who Will momentarily envied for some unknown reason, bobbed between cars.

The vampire, as Graham’s mind painted him, was a massive shadow figure. Following waves of devastation, doing extra credit work for the hand of god. As he meandered down the corridors of Dauphine, he pictured a colossus trailing him, smelling the wreckage of his life and taking a merry bite of it. Puncturing and draining him and enjoying itself tremendously.

Will attempted to mentally de-fang the vampire, so to speak, before going inside the crowded bar he intended to spend the evening at. He stopped just outside, sidling up against the greenery between establishments, letting leaves give him cover as he shut his eyes. He wanted to meet someone. Get lost in them, as he was so talented at doing, and didn’t want this bloodsucking chimera interrupting his exercise. It was his last week before he’d be a bona fide cop-- _then_ he’d deal with vampires. Tonight, Graham was gonna tame this thing. It was taking up too much room in his goddamn head.

How could he conceptualize the vampire so that it didn’t scare him? What rendered it palatable, even cute? Head back against the brick of the bar’s exterior, Will mused on a film he’d seen in theatres a year ago. _Interview With the Vampire_. The towering gloom of the vampire began to shrink and flush pink, looking more and more like a man, susceptible to drama and attachments and flights of fancy. The forming impression of his handsomeness undercut his danger. Will could see his vampire, now, beautiful and young and operatic in his posturing.

He wasn’t attempting to draw up a legitimate profile. This was divorced from whatever the reality of the killer was-- this was Graham’s personal reverie. If he’d be pursued by his daydreams, they may as well amuse him. The vampire amused him now.

The vampire was now so altered that he became… Fuckable. The monster that had changed people from the living into the dead was now somehow simultaneously awakening them, liberating them. It tapped something inside Graham that hungered to wreak havoc. His mouth watered as he lost himself in fantasies about becoming a creature of lust, too, brush with that power and _consume_ \--

Well, Graham, that wasn’t the point of the exercise. Will opened his eyes up, feeling turned on and hungry instead of afraid. It thrummed in him harder, with more persistence and edge. He vaguely missed being dwarfed by a shadow. This energy, though, he could angle to use for whatever seduction he intended to pull off tonight.

He was still thinking about his new and good-looking vampire when he entered the bar. He’d only meant to sterilize the image, not turn it into a different kind of obsession. Now Graham felt himself looking for Prince Lestat, covetous eyes roaming the crowded watering hole for a glimpse of cheekbones and sharp teeth.

A woman was laughing uproariously at the bar. He watched her for a moment, the way she leaned against her friend and squeezed his forearm to brace herself while she hooted. A biker type shouted in celebration when he got a bullseye at darts. Other guys clapped him on the back and whistled in agreement. None of these people interested Will, and he ran his tongue along his teeth as he yearned for his vampire.

There he was. There he was! A figure set off a light on Will’s radar, and he sucked in an inhale as he stared. He watched him in profile, illuminated by green lamp light in the booth furthest from the entrance. Dark hair, shadow tracing the stark line of his top lip and the underside of his cheekbone. Alone, watching the people at the bar. Will projected onto him that he was looking for something, too. That their hungers matched. The stranger turned in slow motion and looked directly at him, dark eyes sparkling.

Vampire. Vampire, vampire, vampire. Graham lifted his gaze to the wall, like maybe he’d been looking for a friend and hadn’t found them, then dropped it to the floor and locked on his shoe tips. A desperate urge pulled him by the belly, threatened to yank him all the way out the door and down the street and into the safety of his car. It said, run away. Go. Get out.

Will hesitated-- didn’t listen. He recalled something his high school girlfriend had asked him after he told her he had a ‘gut feeling that they should break up’.

_Is that your intuition, or your ego?_

Must be ego. This man wasn’t dangerous, and Will Graham would prove it to his squirming insides. He steeled his nerves and let his appetite to connect with his daydream walk him all the way to the corner table. The man looked more and more precisely like his vision as he got closer, each-- the stranger and the vampire-- informing the other, bringing detail and weight to Graham’s invention. He was beautiful. Spectacularly beautiful, in that way only an outsider could be. A foreigner among the local crowd, the dead among the living.

Will ran a hand through his hair as he approached the booth. Six weeks of regrowth after buzzing it all off, back to soft, less prickly. He smiled at the stranger, mostly to see if his expression would change, too. “I’m gonna get a drink for myself.” He told him, glancing to his drained glass on the table. “Can I get you a refill while I’m there?”

The stranger mirrored his smile, doing wonders to settle Will’s anxiety about approaching him. The comfort flopped right back into worry when the smile broadened, and Will could have sworn he saw a fang glint. Only oddly rotated canines, an aesthetic quality he could forgive to make up for the way his own smile was twitching all over the place. Face panning out the entire emotional gamut, before the stranger even spoke.

“This was a whiskey sour with an egg white, per recommendation of the bartender.” He told Will, tilting his head with a kind of unabashed curiosity which Will had only ever seen in animals. People had a tendency to mask their interest. This man didn’t.

“Well, if it comes recommended, I’ll get one too.” Will took up the empty glass and did a flirtatious little shrug over his shoulder as he wandered away to the bar with it. He berated himself for the shrug as soon as his back was turned. Stupid shrug.

He asked for two sours, leaning against the countertop between two seated patrons drinking alone. As he dug cash out of his wallet to pay for the drinks-- no use anticipating a tab-- he mulled over the accent he’d just heard the stranger speak in. What _was_ that? The deliberateness with which he spoke couldn’t all be accounted for by his home language, but it would serve as an acceptable conversation starter. Probably a tired one, if he was going around Louisiana sounding like that.

Will laid cash on the bar and accepted their drinks. He lifted one up to the light, craning his neck to frown at the color and consistency. He’d never put an egg in his whiskey, and certainly not a maraschino cherry or an orange wedge. Will had chosen to cozy up to a man tonight, it was only fair that he was strapped with a revealing drink. He was unbothered. It probably tasted great, and no one was looking at him as he carried their glasses back to the booth. He slid in across from the stranger, gently pushing his drink to him on a paper coaster.

“I’ve never had one of these.” Will told the vampire as he ducked his head down to sip at the rim of his glass, too full for him to confidently pick back up.

“No? I ordered what the bartender suggested in an attempt to make myself look at home. It looks like I was found out before I opened my mouth.”

Will chuckled at that, feeling more at ease all the time. He picked the orange wedge out of his drink and sucked on it. “You’ve got a tourist face.”

“What kind of a face is that?”

“I don’t mean the structure of your face.” Will clarified first, taking a look at the man across from him. He paused a moment to appreciate the way he looked. Short hair, neatly cropped sideburns, a few straight bangs brushing his forehead. A pretty standard men’s haircut, with the distinction of being a bit longer in the back. For all the order of his styling, there was something distinctively bohemian about him. An openness in him. Maybe he was just European and homosexual and Will was reading into it. He cleared his throat. “I mean you’re bold. You have a look in your eyes which tips people off to your being nosy. Usually people aren’t so inquisitive when they’re used to it here.”

“You aren’t used to it here, either, then?”

Will blinked, surprised by the accusation. “Do I have tourist-face, too?”

“You’ve got a scrutinizing gaze. Are you an investigator?”

Will sat up straight, brow scrunching. He thought he’d gain some traction by making a unique observation. He hadn’t expected a sparring partner of this aptitude. Will’s attention was caught, now. The question didn’t strike him as out-of-place, or like he’d been assaulted by his perception, the stranger was just… Right about him, and he was too friendly to be angry with. Will was fascinated from the get-go, and even more interested now.

“I’m sorry.” The stranger shook his head when Will didn’t reply right away, offering up another smile. He sipped his drink, then leaned in over the table to lower his voice slightly. “This can’t be the first time someone’s told you that you look like a cop.”

“I’m, uh, a trainee, actually. Cop next week.”

“A trainee.” The stranger repeated, leaning back again and nodding.

Will rolled his lower lip between his teeth, deciding to eat his cherry now. He brushed it against his mouth before biting it, making a little face at how sweet it was. He didn’t know why maraschino cherry flavor always snuck up on him like that. “So, where’s your accent from?”  

“Lithuania.”

“Baltic Europe? Huh. Is this your first time in the states?”

“No. First time in New Orleans. I live in Baltimore, where I’ve recently graduated school. I’m taking a small trip around the parts of America I haven’t seen, to celebrate my impending employment.”  

“Which school did you go to?”

“Johns Hopkins.”

“The doctor from Lithuania.”

“Surgeon.”

Will hummed at that, sipping his drink again. He really liked it. Not anything he might have chosen for himself, but a sweet and sour treat.

“We’re both about start new chapters in our lives.” Hannibal observed.

“Mhm.” Will agreed. He met the man’s eyes, and he was looking at him in that clear and attentive way again. He was so handsome it was almost startling to look at him. The vampire prince. Romania was just south of Lithuania, maybe this man had been fathered by a Transylvanian transient. It made Will smile to think about, smirking conspiratorially like he knew some fabulous secret.

“What?” The vampire smiled back.

“What’s your name?” Will finally asked.

“Hannibal Lecter.”

“Will Graham.” He returned, reaching his hand across the table to shake. Hannibal’s handshake was firm and warm. Will had to count it as one of the best handshakes he’d ever had, not that he’d ever thought of ranking them previous to this moment. As their hands parted, Will felt the tip of a shoe brush up his ankle. He swallowed, getting a pleasant little rush along his back and into his scalp.

Will knocked back the rest of his drink, realizing as he set down the glass how he’d sabotaged what he’d hoped would be a smooth move by downing lots of sour liquid at once. He blinked rapidly, mouth twisted up. Hannibal laughed and joined him in his misery, following suit and finishing what was left of his drink. He squeezed one eye shut pursed his lips, and Will didn’t feel so alone in his misstep. Even making Will laugh he was gorgeous, getting better and better all the time. Still giggling, Will felt comfortable moving his hand underneath the table and finding purchase on Hannibal’s knee. He squeezed lightly.

“I’m staying at a friend’s apartment.” Hannibal offered before Will had to ask. “He’s off with his girlfriend tonight, and gave me the O-K on guests. If you’d like to continue this conversation there.”

Will nodded, brushing his fingers further up Hannibal’s thigh. “Uh-huh.”

That thing that Will had seen the first time the stranger had looked at him shined in his eyes again. That dark sparkle.

Hannibal gingerly moved his leg away, not meaning to displace Will’s advances too suddenly. Will appreciated it, taking his hand back as he stood to exit the booth with him. He glanced at Hannibal’s glass, drained of alcohol but with that perfect red cherry still sitting untouched. He plucked it up and made like he would eat it, feeling playful. “Did you want this?”

“Yes.” Hannibal stepped close to Will. Now that they were both standing, Will could take in the full presence of his height. They were about the same size, with the older man having an inch or two on him. He’d been thinking so much about Tom Cruise’s vampire that a part of him expected Hannibal to be short. He wasn’t. He took the cherry out from Will’s fingers with his mouth, swooping in very quickly and chewing when Will looked at him next.

Hannibal licked his lips. “Let’s go.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment wasn’t even Hannibal’s, and the intimacy of the situation still knocked the wind out of Will. They’d left their shoes by the door and Hannibal wandered off to the kitchen to get them another drink-- whiskey, with ice, as Will had mentioned it was his usual choice-- and Will was struck by the reality of having gone home with this man. Time felt more immediate, like stepping inside this little home rocked Will Graham into the present. His belly clenched.

There was a poster for the band Pulp on the wall. A threadbare couch, tiny television, and the biggest skateboard Will had ever seen leaning underneath the window. Past the kitchen, around Hannibal pouring drinks at the counter, Will could see what must be the bedroom. “Your-- friend lives here?” He asked, realizing as he said it that the sharpening of his perception must have been caused by adrenaline. There was that distinct sense of danger, again. His gut was telling him to go. Run, run, run. The man who lives here is dead. Vampire. Run.

“He won’t be interrupting us tonight.” Hannibal replied as he emerged from the kitchen with a drink, which Will took and thanked him for. He held the cool glass between his hands, and he must have looked visibly nervous, because Hannibal put a hand to his back and spoke close to him. “Are you alright, Will?”

“Yeah, um.”

“Shall we sit down?” Hannibal began leading them to the couch and Will protested, going the other way.

“Why don’t we sit in the bedroom?” Will suggested, thinking somehow putting himself deeper in the apartment would shut up the thing at the pit of his stomach telling him to escape. He was going to _sleep with this man_. Will Graham’s mind was made up, and the visceral rush of anxiety he was experiencing only drove him harder to get what he wanted. Hannibal Lecter was not a vampire, was not _the_ vampire, and Will would rebel against this insidious thing haunting him and attempting to sabotage his enjoyment of the evening. He’d experience pleasure, and connection. Dammit.

Hannibal was cooperative with their redirection, happy to walk them to the bedroom instead. This was the nicest room in the apartment; the drawn curtains were thin, and a deep shade of red. Lights from the street spilled in, making the place glow. There was a lava lamp, which Will watched Hannibal regard with some vague aversion, but he himself liked it. Hannibal knelt to put a record in the player on the floor. Soft classical music filled the room before Will could ask what it was. Franz Liszt, the sleeve informed him.

He sat on the bed to watch Hannibal. Backlit by the window, he was made of shadow as he stood. Will gulped, recalling his first vision of the vampire. A tremendous darkness. As Hannibal stepped in closer to him-- as the bed squeaked under the weight of his knee when he tucked it under himself to sit-- Will could see the second incarnation of the vampire. The elegant creature. Will took a long drink of whiskey. Hannibal was seated close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Could smell him, if he wasn’t downing liquor. When he lifted his head from his glass to take another look at him, he was kissed.

Will didn’t close his eyes immediately. He left them half-lidded, engrossed in the fuzzy vision of Hannibal’s cheek and ear. He became aware of the beating of his own heart, and it moved him to grope between them to find a place for his hand at Hannibal’s chest. He was soothed when he found his heart beating, eyes sinking shut as he kissed his mouth.

Hannibal brought a hand up to smooth over Will’s cropped hair, not finding enough to tug, settling instead for massaging his scalp with his fingertips. Will hummed into their kiss in appreciation. They moved into an easy rhythm, a velvety pressing and re-pressing of lips. A modest nudging of tongues. They connected like that for what felt like a long time. Long enough to settle Will’s nerves, long enough to put fantasies of bloodsucking fiends to rest. When they parted, Will was calmer, able to regard Hannibal with better clarity. Not the sharp fear-focus of before, but a strong reality gauge. This was a living man, one who kissed him well and watched him with such rapt attention that Will felt his ears prickle with heat.

Hannibal could feel Will coming back down to earth, and smiled at him, still petting his head. “Hello.” He greeted, and Will couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey.” Will returned, voice a little gruff. He initiated the kiss this time, even softer than the last. A hello kiss. He dropped his head down to take another sip of his cool drink, and Hannibal did the same. They both decided then to set their drinks down-- Will’s on the carpeted floor, Hannibal’s on a magazine laying on the bedside table. As they returned to each other, they wrapped their arms around one another and took up kissing again.

Will hadn’t kissed this much since high school. He was only twenty, so that wasn’t so far away, but it was like he’d graduated and walked out and shut the gate forever. Now he was feeling sentimental for the first time. Why hadn’t he done more of this? Hannibal’s lips were so plush, and he was so receptive. He kneaded into the man’s back, opening his mouth wider and using his tongue more brazenly. It felt good to lick; sent blood to his groin, made his breathing quicken. Will tipped them into slow-fall, so they’d land together on their sides, still wrapped up in the other’s arms. Hannibal re-adjusted once they were facing each other on the bed, his top leg finding a comfortable spot between Will’s thighs. He pressed up with his knee bent, giving Will something to rock against while they kissed. Hallelujah, high school.

Will softly bucked against Hannibal’s clothed knee, feeling himself begin to swell down there.  Even an ounce of friction was doing wonders for him, made him murmur something akin to “good”, or maybe “god” as he grazed his tongue over those fantastic canines in Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal moved a hand up to stroke Will’s face. Clean-shaven, creamy. As they withdrew to breathe, he could see Will watching him from under his lashes. “You’re lovely.” He told him, and Will only huffed in response.

Will sat up on his knees to get some space on the man complimenting him, and so he could pull his pocket T-shirt up over his head. If Hannibal really wanted to praise him, he’d give him something worth praising. Hannibal’s hand went right to Will’s belly, fingers splayed, eagerly moving upwards. He passed a thumb over a nipple and Will hummed, already working on opening his belt. The look on Hannibal’s face sparked an enthusiasm in him for undressing, made him want to shed his clothes as quickly as possible. Will needed Hannibal to see him, to know him.

He had to get off the bed for a moment. He hated it, but he did it, standing to wriggle his pants down. Training and running track in high school had given Will bulky thighs, ones which threatened to burst the seams of every pair of dress pants he’d ever owned. These jeans weren’t such a tight squeeze as some of his others, but it still took some effort to get them off. Hannibal sat up on his elbows to check out the view, hands slowing as he undid the buttons of his shirt.

“What?” Will grunted when he noticed Hannibal gawking, even as it thrilled him to be looked at.

Hannibal didn’t stop staring for having been caught, just wet his lips and opened his shirt up to shake off his shoulders. He had a dark little grove of chest hair, thick between his pecs and painted faintly in a thin line all the way down his front. It was Will’s turn to blink at Hannibal’s torso the same way he’d been gaping at his muscular legs, and Hannibal’s turn to ask, “What?”

Will frowned and shrugged, feigning casual interest even as he was obviously half-hard in his undershorts. He faced the curtains as he bent to pull his socks off, noting that the red drapes looked new. Elevated taste from the rest of the apartment, too. Hannibal must have bought them; it occurred to him that it was a strange thing for a house guest to do, and he considered asking about them when he turned to face the man on the bed again.

When he looked, Hannibal was lounging in nothing but dark briefs, looking cool and slightly aloof. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“The curtains.” Will muttered as he was drawn to Hannibal’s form on the bed, magnetized by the relentless urge to put his face against his body. He climbed over him, sticking his nose first in that diamond of hair on his chest and nuzzling. He did a deep inhale, his sighed exhale lilting. He kissed all down Hannibal’s front, following the trail of hair down his belly until he was nipping at the band of his briefs and flicking his eyes up to ask permission.

Holding his face so close to Hannibal’s groin that his bulge was brushing his chin, Will’s breath hitched from intensity of their eye contact. He felt seen through to the back of his skull. Just to break the spell a moment, Will dropped his eyes to tug the briefs down around Hannibal’s hips, freeing his cock and bringing a hand up to wrap around the base.

Uncut, not tremendously long, but _thick_. The head was dark, the same obscene shade as the lips on his face, and Will rolled the foreskin up and down to watch the way it barely covered him, then revealed him again. He lowered his mouth to it, lapping curiously, then nursing at the tip and bringing his eyes back up for that electric connection. Hannibal was heavy in his hand, filling out as they looked at each other. Will was barely doing more than kissing, his hand doing most of the work stroking him off. It was all in the eyes. If Will was terribly romantic he could have mistaken it for love, the way this man was looking at him.

Hannibal was panting open-mouthed, elbows keeping him propped up so he could see Will properly. He leaned on one so he could use one hand to encourage Will to take more into his mouth, which he did easily. Actually sucked him, which required more effort to keep his eyes up, but Will was nothing if not task-oriented.

He held Hannibal’s thighs around the back, finding some stability with his fingers trapped between flesh and the bed. It kept Will balanced as he took more and more of him into his mouth, getting about halfway down before his gag reflex protested. He hadn’t hit the back of his throat, he was just gaggy. He took that as a sign to stop trying to go further, just focusing on quality, on swirling his tongue around and hollowing his cheeks out and applying as much suction as possible. Hannibal was making sounds, shallow, “ah- ah- ah-”, so he knew he was on track. He revelled in the way his jaw was cramping, in the way his lips stretched. Will was so into the rhythm of it that he was startled when Hannibal tapped under his chin with his thumb, making him pop his wet mouth off of the cock he was enjoying.

“Come here.” Hannibal asked, and when Will hesitated, he said it again as more of a command than a suggestion. “Come here.”

Will licked his lips, a little sorry he couldn’t give this guy an orgasm with his mouth, but willing to renegotiate the circumstances of how he finished. He crawled up the bed, half-smiling at the way it creaked under them. He laid himself down on top of Hannibal, bringing his hand down to continue stroking his saliva-slick cock, now sandwiched between his stomach and the crease of Will’s hip. He kissed his chin, listening. “Hm?”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Hannibal whispered.

Will answered after a moment of consideration, spent marvelling at the shape of Hannibal’s jaw. "Yes."

“How do you want me?”

“In my lap.” Will decided. He got off of Hannibal to give him room to sit up. They kissed again, long and slow, as a temporary goodbye before they disconnected and moved away from each other. Hannibal went to the bedside table to find what he needed in the drawer, while Will knelt at the head of the bed and haphazardly stacked pillows. He squirmed out of his shorts while he waited, then sat expectantly on his knees to watch Hannibal come back to him. Hannibal had an unlabelled vial in one hand, pouring generous amounts of oil into the other with it, wrapped condom hanging from his lips. He capped the bottle and lay it down on the bed in case they needed more, then rubbed his hands together. They were both fully nude, Hannibal’s briefs folded neatly on the table with his sweating glass of whiskey.

He straddled Will’s lap, and Will cradled his upper body to slowly lean him back against the pillows he’d arranged. Hannibal appreciated the ease with which Will handled him, the smile he gave the younger man making the skin around his eyes crinkle. He took ahold of both their cocks in his slicked up hand, experimentally thrusting, frotting. Will gasped at the sensation, glancing between them to watch Hannibal’s hand work. The masculine vascularity in his forearm, the steady movements of his fingers as he stroked reminding Will that he’d studied to be a surgeon. He nestled his nose into the crook of Hannibal’s neck to breathe him in, thank him in kisses. He heard Hannibal tear the condom wrapper open and felt him slide it on him.

Hannibal leaned against the pillows a bit further, bringing his legs up to properly wrap around Will’s back. He was more reclining than sitting directly on Will’s lap, but the posture more than sufficed for what Will had requested. Will was able to sit comfortably on his knees while Hannibal used his free hand to touch at his entrance, still stroking their cocks, but with a less regularity to the movements. Touching himself there looked on his face to be a great relief to him, and Will watched with arousal-hazed curiosity as Hannibal fingered himself open. Will took over rubbing their cocks together, just slipping his hand up and down. Hannibal gave all his attention to feeling up his ass, lubricating, his eyes on Will unfocusing for the first time. “You like that?” Will asked, stupid, so fascinated by what this was doing to Hannibal.

“Yes.” Hannibal croaked.

“You want me?”

“Yes.”

Will worked his own dick harder and faster, leaving Hannibal to his own devices, smearing against his hip. He stopped petting himself and gripped at the base, face twisted in concentration as he lined it up with where Hannibal was earnestly massaging his fingers inside. Hannibal groaned for having to stop pleasuring himself, but shut up as Will began to press. His cock was so thoroughly doused in lubricant that once he got the head in he just _sank_ , making both of them gasp.

“Oh--” Hannibal crossed his ankles and slowly lifted his arms to wrap around Will’s shoulders, holding on tight as the other man curled over him. Will moved his hips back, then snapped right back in, starting up a shaky rhythm. Hannibal could smell the sweat on him.

Will opened his mouth, wordlessly agape as as he fucked Hannibal. He had to look at him. Had to lock eyes again. He wriggled back to get some extra distance between their chests, forcing Hannibal’s grip around his shoulders to loosen. Hannibal settled for holding the back of Will’s head in both hands as they stared at each other, bobbing together as Will thrusted in and out. The classical music Hannibal had put on was swelling to a crescendo, screaming strings which Will hadn’t understood until now.

So, these were the dark eyes that might move a man to compose a song of this caliber drama. Shining and reverent, available to him in every way, begging to be met. The exchange of energy as they watched each other was punctuated by the rocking of Will’s hips.

Will had never experienced this much sustained eye contact in his life, especially not in bed with someone. No part of him wanted to look away from Hannibal, though, not a shred of desire to retreat to the comfort of being hidden. As he verged on orgasm, he shuddered and Hannibal mimicked the sound, probably subconsciously. Will was usually the one catching himself mirroring other people-- maybe he’d never been up close enough to notice someone mirroring him before. He went up to the brink again and fell off this time, moaning, loud and staccato with the slamming of his hips. “Ah-huuh-huuh-huhh--! Ah!” He swallowed the last sound as he came, garbled, looking an absolute wreck. Jaw slack, flushed, panting, shaking slightly. His head spun.

“Will.” Hannibal said breathlessly, petting his face. “Stay with me.” Will could only nod, hot all over and swimming in that post-orgasmic satiation. He had to pull out-- he was feeling overstimulated, and he hated wearing a condom. He slid the thing off once he could, leaning over Hannibal for just a moment to drop it in the trash.

“All better?” Hannibal asked, amused by the urgency with which Will disposed of their protection. Will didn’t respond verbally, just starting prodding his fingers back inside Hannibal while the other worked his cock. Hannibal drew a sharp breath in, looking blissed out all over again. Will crooked his fingers to gently massage against his prostate, earning a soft groan.

“Hannibal.” Will whispered, their faces close. Hannibal puffed hot air against Will’s lips, too far gone to capture them in a kiss. The space between Hannibal’s brows knotted, and his lip twitched. He made something like a whimper, a vulnerable and quiet noise as he came in spurts, dribbling between Will’s fingers and dotting his belly.

Will tasted a little off his knuckle, just to say _I like you. I liked seeing you orgasm._ He wiped the rest off on the sheets between them, already damp with lube and sweat. Hannibal unhooked his legs, and they untangled from each other to go lay on the dry side of the bed. Will spread out on his back and Hannibal curled against his side, relaxed but up on his elbows to get a good look at him.

“I’m gonna charge you if you keep staring like that.” Will teased, no heat to his words, looking totally fond of the man in bed with him.

“I can’t help myself.” Hannibal sighed, tilting his head. Everything was filtered through red light in the bedroom, but Hannibal wanted to make out for certain if Will’s eyes were blue or green. To him, they were like a blue sky reflected on clear water, shining through to all the green moss at the bottom, all the fishes and branches and stones. “I’m sorry, officer Graham.”

Will smirked at that, chuckling, throat dry from breathing through his mouth so much. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of Hannibal’s face. He was captivated again by how handsome this man was. It occured to Will that he might be the only person who could see how special he was. Him, and maybe the bartender.

“I won’t charge you. You can look for free.” Hannibal smiled at him, bright and easy.

Will laughed again, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

Anyone could see how charming Hannibal was. Maybe that he was an oddball, but he integrated it so seamlessly into his costume that it made no sense to interrogate him for it.

Only Will could see that he was a vampire.

His smile faded as he pet Hannibal’s hair again, smoothed it back. “Are you going to bite me?” It must have come out of nowhere, and he expected Hannibal to laugh or deflect somehow, but instead he regarded Will seriously.

“Do you want to be bitten?”

Will stared, processing, then nodded. “Yes.”

Hannibal rolled on top of Will, slow, tender with him. He lowered his nose to Will’s throat and sniffed like he could smell the blood thrumming under his skin. Will’s breathing caught at the top of his inhale, and his hands scrambled against Hannibal’s back. Hannibal kissed a spot on Will’s neck just below his jaw, then started biting.

Will’s heart was hammering all over again as Hannibal’s jaws clamped around his flesh. He bit just a little at a time, sucking between nibbles, bruising him. It had to be the most electrifying hickey he’d ever received. There was some unpleasant sharpness, then, a little sting. He whined when Hannibal pulled back to admire his handiwork, and his eyes went wild when he noticed a spot of blood on Hannibal’s lip.

“Hey!” Will yelped, hand flying to his throat to feel the damage. He didn’t touch anything extraordinary, only some soreness. He brought his fingers back to see a single smear of blood. Hannibal had punctured him, but only superficially. He slowly settled, still regarding Hannibal with some caution. “... I asked you to.” He muttered, face softening in increments.

“Did it hurt?” Hannibal asked, more amused than concerned.

“Yes, Hannibal, it hurt.” Will told him, then admitted more quietly, “I liked it.” Hannibal leaned in to kiss him, and Will warmed to him. He could faintly taste blood. The record player crackled.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Will hadn’t seen Hannibal Lecter since they parted ways in the hallways at Quantico. He expected to see him again in Minnesota, probably buffered by Jack. They’d go to construction sites and sift through paperwork. Boring stuff. He was being haunted by visions again, this time of stags and girls impaled on their antlers, and it wore on him. He’d showered before it was light out, and was spending the empty hours before it was time to leave in his motel room wrapped back up in his blankets.

He was trying to think of something else. Anything but monsters.

He thought of Hannibal, allowing himself for the first time since their reunion to really remember the night they’d spent together. It made Will smile to think on how young he’d been, how impatient and hungry. Their bond had been special, and brief. It was a bittersweet morning when they said goodbye, so wrapped up in each other, so keen to keep looking at one another.

Maybe Will had checked his teeth the day after their encounter. Just to be absolutely certain that they didn’t look any sharper. The bruise Hannibal had given Will had lasted maybe a week and a half before it disappeared as if it never existed. It was a full year before Will looked for it in a bathroom mirror for the last time. Forgot about him.

There was a knock at the door. Will unravelled himself from the blanket cocoon and made his way to the door. He opened it up, and Hannibal Lecter was standing in front of him.

“Good morning, Will. May I come in?”

“Where’s Crawford?”

“Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today.” Hannibal told him, then asked again, “May I come in?”

Will glanced around, like Jack might surprise them after all, but he didn’t. He stepped back to allow Hannibal inside. He trudged to the far wall to turn the lights on, rubbing his face to wake himself up. He glanced back at Hannibal, who was taking tupperware full of food out of his bag.

“I brought a bite.” Hannibal explained.

“I got a bite right here.” Will returned. The delivery was flat, but he hoped he looked enticing as he spread himself out on the rumpled motel bed sheets. Leaning against the headboard, knees open.

Hannibal looked delighted. “... Do you want another one, Will?”

Will nodded soberly, finally locking in his gaze. Hannibal’s dark eyes were sparkling.


End file.
